Better, Second Time Around
by Harlequin
Summary: Jonothon Starsmore heads to London for his Summer vacation and discovers not all is well.


**__**

Summer Vacation, Story1: 

Better, The Second Time Around

**__**

By Mandy Lever

As he stepped into the noisy, smoky club, Jonothon Starsmore vaguely wondered why he'd returned to London at all. Hadn't this been where it all began? Behind this very backstreet club, hadn't his powers chosen to manifest themselves, destroying not only his body, but also his life as he knew it?

His brooding self-recrimination was almost palpable, and so the clubbers gave him a wide berth. They moved aside, mid-dance, almost as if with his formidable, if undeveloped, psionic powers, he willed them to. He didn't recognize any faces, any wild dancing. So he pushed on.

He found himself over by the bar, and his eyes slowly settled on a certain table. Tucked in the corner, it was away from the dancefloor and the lights, protected from the noise by it's position. It allowed for a more comfortable level of conversation, and solace from prying eyes, by the fact the light over it had never been fixed, and cast the table into almost constant shadow.

It had been, two years ago, 'his' table. Well, his and his four friends'. Buck, his wild-eyed, green haired 'Rebel Without a Clue' compatriot in trouble, and Churchill, the techie extrodinaire who was always the voice of reason. And then there had been Eddie, but he'd been gone for sometime before Jono left London.

But he didn't need to name the third. Gayle Edgerton. The pain still bit deep; even after her failed attempt at revenge, he still felt somewhat responsible for everything the girl had gone through. He idly wondered what had happened to her, when after she'd crawled free of his embrace, pressed a kiss to his ruined cheek, and then run from the grounds.

But he knew -she- wouldn't be here. It had to be Buck or Church. He wandered slowly over, to see which is was, not really knowing why, but having really nothing better to do. After all, what could it hurt? All they could do was reject him, and, at least that would be something he was prepared for.

'lo? He ventured, knowing his psionic speech would cut through the noise.

The occupant of the table hugged close to the shadows, but a slim, undeniably feminine, hand reached for the pint on the table. "Thought it was you," a soft voice said, but even through the noise, Jonothon recognized it.

Gayle? 

She leaned forward into the light, green eyes gleaming dully with pain as she did so. "In the flesh...as it were," she said, again, her voice low. In his breathing days, he would have gasped at the sight of her.

Her fair skin had gone sallow and pale, her cheek and eyes sunken, showing the delicate bone structure of her face. The same, horrible thinness outlined her throat and down, till she was seemingly just a stick inside of her shirt, even into those tiny, malnourished hands.

Good Lord, Gayle, wot 'ave yer done t' yerself? He exclaimed, unsure of what else to do, what to say. What /did/ one say, when looking at thier ex-girlfriend? Especially when the self-same girlfriend had plotted death and revenge against you, and this was the consequence?

"I let you go, luv. I let you go," she stated dully, and opened her hands, laying them palm up on the table. Jono understood at once, as he took one look at them.

In each palm there were tiny maws, sets of teeth that clicked and snapped. Occasionally, a slim tongue would dart out, and swipe across the teeth and the palm, but it seems even they were too weak from starvation to put up much of a show.

Yer starvin' t' death, Jono stated dully, not knowing what else to say, what else to do. He should've avoided the club. Should have taken the other, just as painful route, and confronted his parents. Conflicting emotions ran through what was left of his body. He could almost feel his throat constrict, his heart clench; both of which he no longer had. Is this what the woman he'd once loved become?

"Jonothon?"

Her voice brought him back to reality, and he managed a lame, Sorry. I jus' --

"No reason to apologize," she said, sliding back in her seat. "Yer didn't do anything."

His brows furrowed. 'at's not wot yer said, the last time I saw yer.

Her lips turned into a faint, if mocking smile. "Last time I saw yer was a lifetime ago."

A year, Gayle.

"A year t' you. A lifetime t' me," she motioned to the seat across from her. "Sit, if you like."

He wordlessly pulled out a chair; he couldn't just walk away now. So Emplate's.... Alterations were permanent?

"Seems that way."

An' yer 'aven't been feeding, 'ave yer?

"No," she sipped from the bitter pint, and then set the glass down on the table. "Not for six months."

His brow spocked up. Six months ago? 'oo'd yer find 'at would let yer nip off their genetics?

"Simple," she said, motioning with a wave of her hand, behind him. "Look behind yer."

********

Buck grinned. Tonight was going to be great. He was gonna take Gayle home, and he was gonna tell her everything. And beg her, plead with her, to feed again. He knew she'd give in. She did, the last time. Then, she'd be his again.

He hopped through the dancers with abandon, Churchill on his heels, and manuvered his wiry body toward the body. Then, his exuberant movements slowed. Someone was at -their- table.

With Gayle.

And he recognized that jacket. That mane of auburn hair. 

Church ran into him from behind. "Why'd yer stop?" the larger man asked, as Buck staggered a bit and then righted himself, looking back at Chuch in vague annoyance. 

"Churchill, /look/," he pointed, " Izzat /Starsmore/?"

His compatriot glanced over the smaller man's head. "It's Jon," he confirmed blandly. 

Buck's expression darkened; if he was here, things might have to change. But he'd still have Gayle, in the end. He knew he would. And with such thoughts bouying him, he continued to the table, just to hear Gayle's voice. 

"Look behind you."

********

Jono turned slowly, looking over his shoulder. Buck? Churchill?

"'at's us." The big techie said, hmming softly. "aven't see yer sorry arse 'round 'ere in a bit. 'ow's America been treatin' yer?" Churchill didn't bother to ask if he could seat himself, he just pulled out a chair and sat down. Buck followed suit, eyes flicked rapidly between Gayle and Jono.

Jus' fine. He let his eyes shift from one of his old companions to the other, allowing Gayle to sink back into the shadows without a second glance. He could hear the tiny jaws in her hands click, grate, and scrape against the glass that was nestled between them. 

"'at's good." Buck offered, his squeaky voice cutting easily through Jono's thoughts on Gayle, and the long-absent member of the quartet shifted slightly. "Yer in London long, or yer goin' back?" 

Not long. Just on summer break.

Buck nodded, and says, "Well, 'ell, Jon, drop by me an' Gayle's place, while yer 'ere. I mean, same ol flat, jus' it's me an- 'ey!" He yelped, midsentance, and glared over at Gayle. "'at wos me foot, sunbeam." He said sullenly, his mecurial mood downshifting quickly.

"I know," the young woman responded quietly.

It didn't take the young mutant's burgeoning psionic gifts to sense the tension between the two. P'rhaps, he offered. Gayle glared daggers at Buck, but it didn't seem to be about him. There was something else, at the edges of his newfound senses. He had to get Emma to teach him more of the standard 'telepathic' stunts, one day. Learning by guesswork wasn't always the best idea. Especially when other peoples' minds were concerned.

Buck didn't seem to notice Gayle's glower. He just resumed his grin, and his chatter. "Right, 'en!" he said, and then looked at Gayle. "Speakin o' which, we needa get yer 'ome. S'rainin' outside, and yer..." he trailed off, and his brows furrowed. "Don' want yer to get sick,'gain." 

Again? 

"Yeh. Again." Buck answered, as Gayle nodded, and released her grip on her drink, and reached downward. Jono blinked, confused, and then realized why. Yer in yer wheelchair, again.

"Durr, Mr. Starsmore. Never claimed yer were the brightest inna class, but 'at wos one fer yer stupid marks." Buck said dryly as Gayle manuvered around the table and out. "She can't walk unless-"

"Buck!" Her voice cracked out like a snake, and the other youth recoiled, ceasing to speak. "Fine, fine." He eventually muttered, letting the subject drop.

Buck grinned at Jono, seeming to display his crooked teeth at every opportunity, and then said, "Consider droppin' by. See yer!" and with that, the pair headed out. 

Unless she feeds. Jono muttered to himself. 

Churchill nodded. "Yer got bollocks've steel, comin' back 'ere, like this, Starsmore." The big man said softly, breaking his silence after the pair vanished through the mob of bodies. "But yer were missed, if it's any consolation."

Thanks. I think. He paused, for a time, considering how to decipher Gayle's cryptic answer. So 'oo's ther meta? He asked, slipping back into the old, English mannerism. There were no 'mutants' in England. There were 'metahumans'. Or 'metas'. 

"Buck." 

Jono tried to keep the surprise from registering in his voice and on his mangled half-face. Buck?

Chuch nodded. "Came inter 'is powers, spot on a year ago." The man said, as he contemplated the half-full pint that Gayle had left behind. "Not too flashy. He re-arranges the printed word. Yer know, like Newpaper? C'n make it say wot 'e wants it t' say."

Jono gave a vague 'snort' sound that didn't translate well over his telepathic speech. Gorgeous.

Church settled back in his chair, letting silence follow Jono's derison of Buck's mutant powers. Finally, he spoke again. "You actually gonna go see 'em?" His tone was flat, void of curiosity, but Jono thought detected an edge of concern to it, instead.

Think I should?

"Maybe. Dosen't matter wot I think. Matters wot yer wanner do." 

Churchill rose from his seat, after a moment's pause, and said, "Welcome back t' London, Jono. 'ope yer summer break ain't shite like it looks like it's gonner be." And with that, he clapped a hand to his old friend's shoulder, and headed for the door.

Jonothon sat only a moment longer. The club wasn't as pleasent as it used to be. He crossed the floor, heading out, shortly after Churchill.

********

Angelo --

Tell me, does life for all mutants suck, or am I just lucky? I kind of wish that you'd taken me up on my offer, and come with me, cause I could really use an 'amigo' to talk to. Too bad a lack of lips make phone calls hard, otherwise, get on the blower and see if this sounds as fucked-up as I think it does.

I saw Gayle.

Yeah, you read right. The 'one true' before Paige. Yeah, the one who sold me up the river to Emplate. 

And she looks like shite. Seems that when he made his modifications, turning her into a gene-sucking tosser like himself, it was permanent. And now she's starving to death, because she let me go. It just boggles my mind, I tell you. That she's starving to death. Because of him. Because of me. 

Yeah, yeah, I know we've had this talk before about guilt before. It's just looking her in the face and realizing I helped do this to her. No matter what she says.

I don't know what to do, really, here. I mean, I hate to say it, these aren't my mates, and these aren't my streets anymore. Jono-The-Faceless dosen't belong here, with the rest of them. 

Oh, bollocks.

I'll write when I have -pleasant- news. Of course, when that 

happens, hell will freeze over and we'll have world peace, so don't hold your breath.

--- J.E.S

********

After sealing the letter in the envelope with some scotch tape, Jono took a self-adhesive stamp, as lack of a tongue made the others pretty useless in his hands, and put it on his desk in the hotel room that Ms. Frost had set him up in. It was a posh place, really, and he didn't like the upperclass establishments that Cassidy did. But then again , the only reason he was at this particular establishment is that they had a connection to Frost Enterprises. Nevermind that Ms. Frost had vanished without a trace, after a particularly messy blow up with Cassidy over Penance that Jono didn't particularly know about, but regardless of her absence, they still put him up as he was her student.

They didn't like him much, in return, so it was an amicable arrangement: He stayed quiet and out of sight, and they'd accept the money Cassidy was paying them to house him. It worked out well, for the most part.

And that's how he'd spent his time. Staying quiet. Unobtrusive. Blending in as much as he could, which wasn't much at all. Then, finally, the silence and the staying out of sight began to wear on him, and he left the confines of the hotel to seek out whatever he could find in the city of his birth, London.

And he wondered what had possessed him to go into that club. He knew the risks of running into Churchill or Buck would be high, but Gayle? His Gayle, who he's walked away from, and then had been walked from by?

No, she wasn't 'his Gayle', anymore, now was she? And then, there was the added complication of Paige. Paige Guthrie, the blonde farmgirl who'd weaseled her way into his heart and complicated his already overly complex life moreso then it ever had been before. With her blue eyes and innocence, she'd cleared part of the clouds that still lingered around him, taking his sin and his guilt for being a mutant, for being himself, and washed him almost clean. 

But, honestly, how did he feel about her? Love? Was it love? Friendship? Longing? Need? He couldn't yet explain how he felt about her. He just knew that he liked her. But was it more then that?

He looked down to the letter in his hands. Bollocks. He was going to send it, and be done with it. Not like Angelo could get in touch with Paige and let her know about what was going on, now could he?

But still, it dug at him, made him wonder - what did he really feel? For Paige… Or Gayle?

*******

Gayle awoke to the comforting sound of Buck's breathing. She shifted slightly in their shared bed, and looked down at the green-haired crown of his head. He'd tried, he'd pleaded, he'd begged her to feed. And again, she'd told him no. He'd cried himself to sleep there, in her arms. 

Six months ago, this would have had a different ending. She would have taken Buck into her bed as a lover, screwed him senseless, and as he peaked, let her second set of jaws sink into his flesh and let his orgasm over-ride the pain. Then, she'd let him collapse with both exhaustion and with the twin maws suckling hungrily at his marrow. She was trying to make it easier on him. 

Perhaps that was her mistake. She'd supped on him before, in different ways, but always, the pain it caused was terrible and she couldn't bear to see him suffer so. Then, when they became involved, more then simply predator-and-prey, she began to feed during sex. It was kinder. But it made the addictive properties of the bite far, far more insidious. She never expected Buck, who already had an addict's personality and tendencies, to come to crave the twin sets of teeth in his skin, the sudden power-drain, and then, the unconsciousness. Even without the sex to cover the pain of it all.

Maybe if she hadn't been so vulernable. So needy. If her family hadn't disowned her, abandoning their now-freakish daughter to her own devices, she wouldn't be in this predicament. But they blamed her for everything that had occurred with Jonothon as well as sending her unstable mother back into both therapy and those lovely pill bottles, with her crippling. Of course, when Emplate made the offer of vengenace, she took it up. Anything, to fill the empty spaces. Even if it meant killing Jono to try and find some satisfaction. She honestly thought that she could twist her love into hate, and end it, end it all, with her hands. And the gift of the twisted jaws that Emplate left her.

And that's what brings her back. As her fingers drifted over those cyan strands of hair, she found herself thinking of Jonothon. She still loved him, she knew that without a doubt. She'd never stopped loving him. Even when she'd betrayed him, she'd wanted nothing more then to have him pay for breaking her heart, taking her love, and cheapening it. But in the end, the thing that damned her and saved him was love. He … loved? … her enough to forgive her, and she loved him enough to let him go. 

A knock at their door jolted Gayle from her reverie and brought her back into the land of the living…or the dying. "Church?" She called softly, and the door to her room cracked open.

The big man, the Yang to Buck's Yin, peered in from the space between door and doorframe, brown eyes flickering over Buck and then over the woman who held him. "I take it yer didn't feed," he said bleakly, pushing the door open a little more.

"No." She looked down at the boy still asleep across her body, and her emaciated fingers that lay across his short hair. The boy didn't stir. Buck had been drunk to begin with, and so would probably continue to sleep, even if she moved. She turned her eyes to Churchill, and motioned to her chair. "Help me out?"

He nodded, and moved over to the bed. With an easy roll, Buck was on his back on the bed, and Churchill was picking up Gayle's frail form and settling her in her wheelchair, and pushing her out into the living room. 

"So why'd you drop by?" She asked, as Church moved from behind to go to the counter and start a pot of coffee. The other teen didn't live with Buck and Gayle, but he did have a key to their flat. 

"I wanted t' talk to yer."

" About what?"

"Jonothon."

She paused, and Churchill continued to make coffee in silence, the bubbling and gurgling of the pot being the only sound in the flat. Finally, when he brought her mug to her, doctored up just the way she liked it, she asked, "What about Jonothon?"

" 'ow 'bout 'Are you going t' see 'im?' Or 'Yer still love 'im. Yer gonner tell 'im before yer die?' Both of those 'r good fer starters."

Her forest-green eyes narrowed to slits, she regarded her companion coldly. When Church deigned to speak, it was only when he thought it was important. But it wasn't always with /tact/. "How about 'None of your business' and 'Sod off' for answers?" she replied icily.

"They're right shite," Chuch, in his blunt way, rebuked her. "And yer know it. Now, 'ow bout we try this again, eh?"

"How about you show yourself out, eh, Church?"

The big man sipped his coffee, shaking his head. "Oh, Gayle, the more yer run from this, sunshine, the worse off yer'll be. Yer need ter let 'im know."

"Says who?" she snapped suddenly. " He's got enough guilt without dealing with me and me wounded heart."

"Gayle, yer know it's not true. 'e loved yer once." He reached out, and laid one hand over hers. "An' yer love 'im still. Don't yer owe 'im this much? T' let 'im know?" He paused, and was quiet, and then voiced his last concern. "Yer don't 'ave much time left, Gayle. This may be the last chance yer get, t' look 'im in wot's left of 'is face, and let 'im know everything."

Her fingers briefly curled around Churchill's, and she looked down at the table. "Go home, Churchill," she said softly, pleading.

Church just nodded. "Right, then. Yer the only one 'oo can 'elp yer, Gayle. Gonner 'ave t' 'elp yerself with this. With 'im. Buck an' I can't save yer."

There was a long pause, and he simply moved from the kitchen, showing himself out. Then, the soft sound of her voice stopped him. 

"Church?"

"Yeh?"

"I know."

He looked back at her briefly, but she didn't turn in her seat, didn't look back at him in return. So he simply nodded, and headed out of the flat.

The girl was quiet. Alone, she took her place where she sat by the window, coffee cup cradled in hand, and waited. Waited for what, who could say. Even she didn't know.

******

He met with his parents. It went…fairly well.

He expected it to be disastrous.

Mum was… Well, she was Mum. She gave him cold, hard stares, and let him know that He was not her Son. He was That Mutant. And he quietly dealt with it. It had been her icy stares sharp tongue that drove him to the states, to the thought that just maybe, Charles Xavier could offer him a touch of hope in this world.

His Papa, on the other hand, greeted him with hesitant warmth and the love he still bore his rebellious boy. And so Mum glared at him too, and let him know that this was a prime route into the doghouse. But Papa still smiled with him, and sat and spoke with him, outside on the back porch, while Mum shut herself up in her room.

Jonothon couldn't do anything about his mother, really. So he enjoyed what he could with his father. They talked about America, about school, about what he was learning. 

And of course, his father brought up Paige.

Wot c'n I say 'bout 'er. he sighed, and shrugged. She's…a good friend.

"But…?" his father prompted, as he looked at him, concerned. He had gotten letters mentioning this 'Paige' and how ... special she was. He had to know about her. And Jono knew what he was asking.

But…But I dunno 'ow I feel 'bout 'er.

The elder Starsmore nodded, hmming softly. Then, he looks across at his son, and asked something Jono had hoped that he wouldn't bring up. "'ave yer seen Gayle?"

He paused, and then answered, …Yes.

His father nodded, almost sympathetic. The older man had cared about Gayle almost as much as Jonothon did. "Wot 'appened?"

Very little, he thought on what to say, how to explain what had happened. She's dying.

That took the older man by a bit of a start, and he blinked and looked at his son. "Dying?" he decided not to press the issue anymore, let it drop. His son had gone through enough without him reaming him for anymore information about the girl that he'd come to love almost as a daughter.

Yeh, Jono considered silently. There was nothing he could do. Emplate's alterations were permanent. She was going to die… Unless…

Papa, I think there's something I gorra do, he rose abruptly, and his father rose with him, blinking in confusion. "Wot's 'at, Jon?"

I gorra…go set somethin' right. His father nodded, and reached out, and put a hand on his shoudler, nodding. "Gowon, 'en." And with that Jono was gone.

The meeting with his family went fairly well… And put a few things into perspective for him.

*******

Gayle saw him from the window. She didn't know what he was doing in that part of town. But then he was there, and things were suddenly rushing through her mind. What was he doing here? Did he come to see her, taking up Buck's invitation to drop by? If so, why?

Buck! She looked over at the door to her bedroom, still firmly shut, and wondered if the boy had woken up yet. No sound came from their room…

She looked back out the window. Jono was gone. Where did he go? She looked around quietly. Had he continued down the street? Headed elsewhere? Gone-

There was a knock on the door.

She easily recognized Jono's two, languid raps. 

He'd come into the building. He'd taken up Buck's invitation. He was here and she had to let him in. She wondered why her heart suddenly clenched and why her mouth went dry. Finally, she licked her lips nervously, and called, as she began to slowly roll her wheelchair toward the door, "Coming."

I 'ear yer. 

Now there was no doubt. That flat, psionic monotone could be no other. She tried to stop her hand from shaking as she opened the door. She regained some semblance of composure, as she opened it from the side, letting Jono step inside.

Hidden by the door, he didn't see her at first. Then, he stepped forward, and glanced around it, brown eyes almost…curious. Gayle?

"Yeh. S'me."

She looked up at him briefly, remembering his face as it was, and looking over the one before her. China-crack scars, dark and ugly, raced up from those bandages that hid the worst of his damage. She remembered the youth from long ago. Jono was definitely what she'd considered handsome, in a rugged way. Almost rakishly charming. But she could barely make out the teen she'd fallen for in the face of the stranger that stood before her.

At least, till she met his eyes. And they told the whole story. Warm, brown eyes that still held that old glint. The old Jono was still there. And he was talking to her… Gayle? God, gel, yer look like yer not all there.

She blinked a few times, and manged a weak smile. "Sorry, luv. Got a bit distracted for a moment. Touch of pointless nostalgia."

He looked down on her with something akin to kindness, not pity, but kindness, in his eyes. Then, in true Jono fashion, he was blunt. Yer look like shite, gel.

Her thin lips twisted into a bit of a sardonic smirk. "I could say the same 'bout yer, thanks." 

His brows furrowed, and the he bobbed one shoulder in a half-shrug. Sorry, he looked around at the old flat. No, it hadn't changed at all. It was still…Buck's flat. But she could almost hear him wondering… 'Where's Buck?'

" He's still asleep," she said, to answer his unspoken question. "Had… a rough night last night." 

His eyes briefly flickered over her, and he discounted her as having really contributing to Buck's 'rough night'. She was too frail to fuck, he decided, and she obviously hadn't fed since he last saw her. Besides, he didn't know if she and Buck were … involved like /that/ anymore. 

I see. Good, he said, as he reached out and shut the door. Bad enough 'at 'e's gonner sleep for a while, right? He said, as he clicked the lock. Suddenly, she felt very…anxious.

"Yeh," she replied, wondering why he'd ask such a question. "Don't know for how long, though." 

Which room is 'e in?

That feeling of apprehension grew. "Our room," she said simply. Her eyes flickered over his face, and she knew that her anxiety was beginning to be obivous on her pinched features. 

He winced slightly. He could see that he was disturbing her, and he knew that what he came here to do would do nothing but hurt her - and save her. Spare empty? he asked. She nodded mutely. Alright, then. C'mon.

She blinked once, then twice, and then shook her head. "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, Starsmore, but I'm not playing any games here with you."

I'm not playin'. If yer want, we c'n do this right 'ere on the couch, And with that he began to tug off his leather jacket, tossing it to the aforementioned piece of furniture.

"Christ onna pony, man, what's gotten into you?" she asked, as he turned his back to her. For a moment, as he began to disrobe, she briefly wondered if he intended something sexual. But no, there was an urgency, a different kind of need here, that she couldn't quite place.

I'm not 'bout t' let yer die, he said simply, and then tugged off his shirt. Pick. Couch 'r spare room. I'd prefer spare, if I'm gonner 'ave ter pass out 'r somethin'.

Finally, it clicked in her head. "Oh, no," she breathed, pale cheeks flushing angrily, "I'm not about to feed off you, so get that out of your daft head right now," she growled, her raspy voice dipping low.

I 'elped us inter this. I'm going to 'elp yer out of it, and then his hands were on her wheelchair, steering her toward the spare bedroom. I'm not gonner let yer damn yerself 'cause of me, gel. I've damned meself for long enough, I'm not 'bout let yer do the same.

"Stop! Fucking stop this right now!" she shrilled at him, hands fumbling for the brakes, but when they caught, he simply moved around to stand before her. Fine, then, and he reached out, and picked her up from the seat, as she yelped, he gentled his hoist. I'm sorry, Gayle, he said, sounding almost truely regretful as he carried her now, and dismissed her broken cries and the tears that sprang to her reddened eyes. But I can't let yer do this. We'll find away t' beat this. We will.

"Please, don't. Just let me die, all right? Let me starve," she protested weakly, as he entered the room. It was sparsely decorated, but he wasn't concerned with that. So long as it had a functional bed. He sat down, situating himself, and then her beside him. He took her tiny wrist, aching as his fingers wrapped completely around it and overlapped his thumb, and then pulled her hand, with its clicking jaws, over to his chest. 

I won't let yer die. If yer 'ate me fer 'at, I'll live with it. But this is one thing I'll never feel guilty fer, he murmured gently as she bit back sobs, pleading with him, tugging feebly at his grip. Then, he just opened a space in his bandages over his chest, pale blue energy shining like Gayle's salvation beneath. 

Then, he pressed her palm over the wound, and held it there, tightly. He 'felt', within the 'chamber' of psionic flame, the dry tongue reach out, touch the energy, and begin to leech away his strength. For a few minutes, he remained conscious, and then, before the drain got too bad, before he finally, slipped away into unconsciousness, he heard a soft voice, calling his name. It was strong again, the musical tones returned. 

"Oh, Jonothon."

The skin around his eyes crinkled. It was the closest thing he could come to a smile anymore. Then, he mercifully slipped down into blackness.

*******

The first thing he was aware of was weight. A foreign, yet…some how, familiar, weight. On his arm, and shoulder. 

He cracked one eyelid open, and turned his eyes left to right, looking for whatever was upon him. And then he spied the mass of auburn hair, the hand that rested on his 'chest' of bandages, fingers curled into a loose fist. He'd woken up in this position before, with this girl, but that had involved less clothes and unconsciousness for an entirely different (and more pleasureable), reason. But he didn't complain. This was a nice familiarity. 

He looked at that hand again. The skin-tone was right, there were muscles and meat to it again. The bones no longer showed so prominently. He felt some measure of satisfaction. She wasn't going to die, just yet, if he could help it.

Gayle? his 'voice' was kept low, as if whispering to her. Gayle, yer awake?

"Am now, " she murmured, and he felt her weight shift slightly, as she turned her head to look up at him, forest-green eyes back to their familiar vivid brilliance.

'ow do yer feel? 

"Like I bloody raped you," her eyes turned down, now, veiled behind her lashes. 

Can't rape the willin', he offered gently.

"Feh," she sat up, and he shifted stretching out an arm that had fallen 'asleep'. "You've got to get out of here. Before Buck wakes up," she said softly. " He begged me to feed, last night. Knowing that I wouldn't on him, and did on you, will not sit well."

If I go, yer comin' wi' me. 

She turned abruptly, looking down at him. "/What?/"

He sat up slowly, ignoring the stiffness and weariness that still lingered, due to her feeding. Yer comin' wi' me. 

"Like hell I am!" she snapped, but he reached up and silenced her by laying two fingers over her lips. 'ere me out, he waited till he was sure she wasn't going to speak again, and said, When I go back t' America, I want yer t' come wi' me.

"Why?" she asked, confused. "I'm sure your classmates wouldn't want me back in their numbers, after betraying you all to Emplate."

Old news, luv. We'll manage. Generation X is about second chances, after all. They gave me a chance, yeh? 

She was about to answer, when they they both heard Buck's frenzied call from the other room. "GAYLE?! GAYLE! WHERE ARE YOU?" 

The two looked at each other, both hearts sinking. "Oh, hell."

*******

She'd been gone when he'd awoken from his deep, alcohol-induced slumber. He's expected that.

He had not expected to see a foreign shirt and leather jacket on the couch, and her wheelchair empty. He'd immediately begun to call for her, checking the bathroom, and then moving to check the spare bedroom.

The door opened as he reached for the knob.

In said doorway were two very guilty looking people. Jonothon Starsmore, and Gayle Edgerton. His Gayle. His Gayle, with that bastard who had hurt her, so very much. Buck was incensed almost beyond reason. "Yer fuckin tosser!" he snarled at Jono, and then rounded on Gayle, ignoring the other youth's bristling at his words."Yer backstabbin' whore. I take yer inter me 'ouse, and this is 'ow yer repay me? Don't yer remember wot 'e did to yer?"

"Very much," she replied simply. "But he - "

" 'e wot? Came in 'ere, and make yer feed. Forced yer?" Buck sneered. "Got yer to do wot I couldn't do?" he moved in on her, and she stepped back, hands balling into fists, but Jono stepped between them. Back. Off. He growled lowly. 

"Fuck yer, Starsmore!" He replied, and lunged for the bandaged throat.

Normally, Jono would have simply moved aside. But he felt a tingle within his 'chamber' that let him know that someone was using psionic powers, near by. Buck froze in place, face a mask of rage and hate. Now, last he knew, he was the only telepath in the room. And then realization struck him, and turned, looking back at Gayle, whose eyes blazed, face twisted up in a grimace of pain. Gayle?

Not now! she snapped, and he felt so odd, hearing with her with his mind and not his ears. Her borrowed telepathy, from her supping on his powers, was being put to use in ways he hadn't figured out yet. Back down, Buck, he could hear her mental command, and the boy went slack, just…standing there obediently. Gayle retracted her will, and swayed for a moment, sweat dotting her brow, and leaned in the doorframe. Jono moved back, briefly, turning his head to look at her, and that was his mistake. 

He only heard the crack of Gayle's body against the doorframe, and his hands were ripping away at his bandages, preparing to turn Buck into a smear on the wall. At least, until he saw the pair grappling, and a cold ball of ice settled in the pit of a stomach he didn't have. 

Blood ran from where both of their hands gripped at the other, not two sets, but four hungry little mouths suckling and gnawing at whatever flesh they came in contact with. Gayle cried out in pain, as she felt the energy she had stolen from Jonothon, was ripped from her.

Buck had finally finished his transformation. Absorbing the psi-energy she'd used against him as a catalyst, he became an Emplate himself. And Jono had no idea what he could do to stop them from killing one another, as they struggled and fed.

Briefly, he waded forward, gripping Buck's arm, trying to pull him free, as Gayle struggled against the larger boy's weight. Buck released her for only an instant, one of his arms coming up and raking across Jono's already marred face, laying the skin open and leaving him 'bleeding' energy. Don't let him get a grip! Gayle mentally shrieked at her former beau, He'll drain you! He tried again, but this time, he could feel the bite of another set of jaws, ripping through his bandages to sink into his side.

But it wasn't Buck's hands. It was the formerly delicate hand of one Gayle Edgerton. As it bit deep, he could feel the power drain again, and wondered what in God's name she was doing. But all the same, he didn't dare jerk away.

Then, he heard something he never wanted to hear from anyone else. The psionic scream from Gayle ripped through his senses, as she expended the stolen energy, and it burst from her flesh, ripping her skin open from sternum to navel. Her jaw and throat remained blessedly intact. 

Buck flew back, smacking hard into the wall, and Jono was tossed to the floor immediately by Gayle's side. Getting to his knees, he cradled her as she bled. There was no psionic flame beneath her flesh, but the power hadn't known how to gain outlet for what she'd wanted to do.

Oh God, gel, please don't die. Please, sunshine, don't die on me… He thought brokenly, before determination kicked in, and he moved to the phone, taking it off its cradle and beginning to dial. And then he just dropped it near her head, hoping her gasps, which were audible, would be enough to bring emergency services here. 

He looked over to Buck, his eyes narrowing to slits. He had never before hoped for anyone's death, but now, he did. He hoped to God and the Devil both that Gayle'd broken his neck. But he wasn't going to leave her side to see, to check, on the broken boy. 

Which, again, was another mistake.

*******

The boy had dragged himself upright, heedless of the broken bones and bruises and blood dribbling down his chin. He just glared at Jonothon, and then began to limp away. He'd save this for another day. What was the coward's adage? 'He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day?' 

Jono didn't notice him till he was at the door, and turning. Buck, yer bastard- 

"I'll find you both, Starsmore. Gayle is mine now. Yer may 'ave corrupted 'er with yer powers, but I'll get 'er back!" 

Yer off yer beam. Jono growled, but it was too late. The crazy boy was already out the door. Now what did he do? 

He could only wait, as Gayle bled in his arms, trying to keep her eyes focused on his, trying to keep her alive, till help came. He didn't let her go until the paramedics arrived. He pried his numb fingers from her skin, and stood there, splattered with her blood, as they struggled to save her life.

And for the first time in many years, Jonothon Starsmore prayed.

*******

When she awoke, she was stitched from sternum to navel, a gruesome line marking her flesh beneath her skimpy hospital gown. Her green eyes flickered around briefly, and she tired to speak, but found that all she could manage was a pathetic gurgle. Where was she? What had happened? Where was Jono? Buck? 

She felt a hand on hers, but couldn't turn her head. I'm 'ere, luv. Came his soft voice. Her eyes lidded, and her lips turned up in a smile.

Gayle, I've gotten in touch Mr. Cassidy. Her eyes turned to his worried face, and met his brown eyes. 'e's going t' come get yer. So yer c'n 'eal quicker. The Shi'ar technology will 'elp yer out. He paused quietly. I…asked 'im if 'e'd be alright wi' yer joinin' us, in Snow Valley, permanently. He paused again, eyes going down to the sheets. Will yer come?

She considered her answer, wondering how she'd confirm or deny him. Finally, she took a deep, ragged breath, and ignored the pain in her lungs, and hissed one word through clenched teeth.

"Yesss."

She was so pleased to see him so happy. Neh. Maybe, Gayle, we c'n make it better, this time. Better, second time 'round, yeh? She wondered if he was asking for a second chance. Regardless, she gave it to him.

*******

Angelo - 

Okay. Are you sitting down? Sit down. 

Alright. This is gonna be brief. I'm scribbling this note to you on hospital paper. Yes, I'm in a hospital. No, I'm fine. It's Gayle. And before you ask, no, I didn't blow her into a wall again.

She passed on the Emplating. To her Ex, Buck. (Long Story.) And he tried to kill her. Or me. Or something. I'm not quiet sure yet. It was all really confusing, and got even more so when Gayle blew her skin apart using powers she'd gotten from me. (Long story, again.) 

Anyway, we're coming back from Summer Vacation early. I know you're staying at the school, so I'll see you there. With Gayle in tow. 

Now, how do I explain to Paige me bringing back my ex-girlfriend? Fuck, life suddenly got infineately more complicated. Anyway…

I'll see you when I get there. I'm guessing we'll be having a bit of a chat. Now, please, do me a favor? Don't mail Paige about this. I want to talk to her, face to face about it. Make sure she knows why I've brought Gayle here.

Anyway, we'll talk soon. I'll be down with Gayle in a week. 

--- J.E.S.

*******

Angelo looked down at Penance, sitting in one of the trees in the grotto, and sighed. "The chico is muy loco."

The blue eyes that innocently peered up at him offered no answers.

He tucked the letter back into his pocket, shaking his head.. "God, this is going to kill Paige…"


End file.
